When Dwarves Take A Day Off
by 221B-ShipperSt
Summary: The rambunctious 12 dwarves need a break from their quest and Thorin gives them a day off. Things get more and more out of hand as pranks and a game of Goals (like American football, minus rules) fills the time. Kíli and Fili lead the antics with one goal in mind, getting Bilbo and Thorin to stop fooling and get together. But things don't go as planned. Post movie.
1. Sunshine

**AN: Hey folks! So obviously these lovely characters are not mine. They belong to Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien. I hope you guys like! I'm not good about updates, fair warning, so bug me.**

The day dawned clear and bright. Warmth was his first thought on that Tuesday. It was so warm. Gently shifting, burrowing really, he got more comfortable in his bedroll. The small sigh of content was enough to stop the bustle around him. A small smile played each viewer's lips. But there were things to be done. Though it was early still, no one was asleep save him and one other. He remained blissfully unaware of the events around him as dwarves rushed right and left. It had been a while since any pranks had been played, too long for Kíli's taste. He stifled a giggle as he glanced at the small hobbit still curled in a deep sleep. This was going to be good. He was tired of watching the two men dance around one another, they all were. And this prank was the final fan to make sparks burst into flame.

Bilbo stretched and yawned, a small, pleased hum bubbling free as his eyes slowly opened. A reluctance to start the day filled him. It was comfortable. He had found a spot with relatively few rocks and a root to prop his coat on. It was perfect. He rolled over, humming again. No. He must get up. He promised to make breakfast. Blinking once, then twice, he was fully awake. Sun filled his vivid green eyes much too quickly. It had been a marvelous dream...although he couldn't quite recall exactly what it had been about. All the same, despite the angle of the sun, he felt a certain lightness in his heart that told him it was going to be a good day. Then he saw it. Everyone was gone. Save one particular dwarf, one who caused his heart to beat uncomfortably fast as all grogginess promptly left his body. It was Thorin Okenshield. And he was sleeping face to face with Bilbo Baggins.

Everything in him was saying to run. He had to leap up and dart away, quicker than quick, to find the others. Well almost everything. A small part of him, he blamed it on the blasted Took running in his veins, was screaming out. That small part was making his cheeks burn and his stomach twist. It was screaming to reach out and touch the sleeping king's face. It was screaming to touch the stubble there and lean close. It was practically drowning out the sense in him. So rather than act he just lay there, propped on one elbow, and stared at him. He was so peaceful. It warmed him to the core to see the king so serene and calm. He had such weight on his shoulders. It was in his eyes and his stance and his words. Thorin seemed so full of grief. He had reason to be. His world was burned to a crisp then even the ashes were ripped away. A sudden protectiveness that he hadn't felt since the pale orc's attack consumed him. He reached out tentatively. The logic in him was barely a whisper now as he watched his chest rise and fall with gentle rhythm. And then an arm hit his side, drawing him close to the mountain of a man. His breath caught in his throat. All that filled his mind was the heady scent of him, of earth and sweat and the gentle tickle of honey. It was home, that smell.

He didn't know how long they were like that. His hand had made contact with his face long ago. His stubble nearly tickled his newly calloused hands. He was absolutely fascinated by his whole being. Slowly, afraid he'd wake him and the moment would be forever lost, he began to move his thumb across his cheek. His breath hitched as the grip at his waist tightened. He was holding on so tightly. A small laugh, breathy and lacking pitch, tore past his lips, disrupting a stray hair. He quickly smoothed it back from the other's closed eyes. And then Thorin's eyes slowly opened. He started to rip his hand away, as if it'd been burned, but Thorin gently closed his large, calloused fingers around it.

"Good morning, burglar."

"Good morning." he squeaked, swallowing hard.

Those eyes, deeper than any night sky, gazed groggily into his and everything felt right in the world. Nothing could harm them. As if a testament to this, his grip on his middle relaxed. Their eyes were locked. His breath was on his face. There were leaves and he reeked of morning. Yet the king was beautiful, regal as his title. Suddenly he could care less about where the others were. He could care less about anything ever in the world. Thorin was next to him, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. And nothing mattered. But there was a rustle to his left. His eyes darted from Thorin's to the sound, eyes locking with Kíli's. He felt so hot. The tips of his ears were burning. Slowly, he pulled himself away from his oddly cool touch. Thorin's eyes closed as a moan rung from deep in his throat. That sound sent a shiver down his back. The moment was gone. No use in pretending otherwise. He sat up, glaring at Kíli. In the back of his mind he knew that the mischievous heir to Erebor had something to do with this. He knew it like he knew the curves of Thorin's face.

There was Thorin again. The blush rose higher still on his cheeks as he stood, striding quickly to the youngster. He was older than Bilbo, certainly, but nothing about him was mature or sensible. The Baggins in him was rearing it's ugly head as he started quickly stammering out super heated accusations at the smugly smiling dwarf. The smile fell faster and faster the closer he got. Finally some respect out of him. A squeak flew from his lips as a heavy, familiar hand landed squarely on his shoulder. How did he move so swiftly, so wholly undetectably? The dwarf was a wall of power for decency's sake! Unsure what else to do he froze. The hand tightened, indicating he look up. But he was stuck. He stared straight forward, helpless as the others emerged. Fili gave him a sheepish curve of the lips that he was inclined to think was a smile as he hung his head, side by side with his brother. The others popped out at their own pace. One could tell they were equally ashamed and fearing of reprimand but a little better at hiding it. Thorin cleared his throat and this time Bilbo did look up.

There was a smile in his eyes, contrary to the frown deeply set on his lips. The dwarf standing, looming really, above him was so hypnotizing. Everything about him was strong and powerful. He seemed to be hewn from the very mountain he was supposed to be ruling. He felt a pang at that. A few minutes he ago he had looked so tranquil. The weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders anymore. The urge to touch him was back. He shook the thought away as he remembered he was supposed to be angry about all this. He was angry. The heat left his face, replaced with a heat in his heart. Why would they do this?

"You lot have given our burglar quite a fright. And moreover you've disturbed my much needed rest." he says in a sharp tone.

Bilbo crossed his arms, smiling smugly. They were going to get it now. He felt a slight ache form in his stomach against his will. Wasn't Thorin at all pleased to wake by his side? As mortified as he was he was at that moment in time, he had been thrilled to have the grouchy dwarf in such close proximity. His smug smirk was drawn in a thin line. Bofur caught his eye and winked. The bloody twit. He seethed inside.

"I do not understand why you did what you did, nor do I wish too. It was childish. But I will tell you this. Whoever's idea it was had best make sure that he sleeps with one eye open. Our hobbit might strangle you himself when he gets wind of your identity and I won't make any effort to stop him."

Thorin's hand tightens slightly on his shoulder at that. He flinches in spite of himself, suddenly reminded of a bruise he'd all but forgotten about. The touch relaxes as all heads snap up. The words are let to hang in the air, sinking in. He's not wrong at all. Bilbo would very much like to throttle Kíli or whoever it was. Very much indeed. But this was not at all like him. Thorin was a man who was quick to judge...and to punish. Yet none of them had gotten a real reprimand. His heart picked up. Maybe he did enjoy his wake up call. Maybe this was the changing point in their relationship. Maybe, just maybe, he was finally more than a tolerated nuisance or someone he was indebted to. He found a genuine smile filing his face, along with a most unwelcome blush that burned all the way to the tips of his ears.

"We will rest today as planned. Now put camp back in order, lads. And someone get a fire going. No doubt you all are hungry."

An enthusiastic roar of agreement filled the air as he finally found the courage to step out of Thorin's all-encompassing presence. Of course a chuckle rang from the group as they finally saw his flaming cheeks. Mentally cursing every dwarf ever born, he walked off into the wood to help the others. Only when his blush had dimmed did he glance back at him. And only then did he feel relieved. He wasn't even looking at him. His eyes were miles away as he stared into the woods after his kin. Bilbo busied himself with other tasks, not even beginning to guess that the far off look in his king's eyes was his doing. Not even aware that it was desperately searching for a way to get the morning's events to transpire again, but with more contact than the fleeting grasp of his hand. Oh no. Thorin was staring into the distance imaging what it would be like to wake that way every morning.


	2. Brooding and Bacon

**AN: Hey my lovelies, so this chapter was written at like 2 o'clock this morning so sorry if it's awful. These wonderful characters aren't mine. Hope you like!**

Thorin spared a quick glance at the hobbit. A smile played his lips as he noticed him humming to himself. The events of earlier flashed through his mind with a pang. That was a most welcome turn of events. But it stung how quickly he had let go. Was he ashamed of him? Was it so wrong to feel for another of the same gender? The sudden sadness turned to annoyance. He was so infuriating lately, winding his way into his thoughts uninvited. But there he was nonetheless, with his infectious smile and his curls. His eyes skimmed over the same sentence for the fourth time as he sighed heavily. Balin looked up at him, that all knowing smirk on his lips. It burned him to the core.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"No. It's even more so."

He groaned, leaning back in a most unkingly fashion. For now he could care less, no one was looking save Balin. And he was the only one allowed to see him so. Shame rolled around his stomach. He was supposed to be a portrait of regality. He should be strong and proud at all times. He was a descendant of kings for Mahal's sake! Yet he had a weakness. He had a spot softer than his touch or the feel of his hair. A spot that never seemed to give him peace. A spot situated so deeply in his heart it ached. From what he'd always been taught these types of feelings shouldn't hurt. They should fill you with light and happiness. They should let one be unashamed and bold in their signs of affections. But he was a king. He had to behave as a king would. Sighing again, he sat up straight and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was starting to hurt. All these emotions and thoughts were too much.

"I don't understand what's holding you back." his voice cut sharply through his disheartened musings.

"You know very well."

"Thorin you're not your forefathers. Times have changed."

"Tradition has not."

"A new kingdom means new laws, new traditions. You are to be king! You can change the social status for the better. No one should have to hide their affections if they're true, as yours are."

He spared a glance, a stare really, at his nephews at that. He couldn't have asked the two to hide their feelings for each other. He knew what went on when they shared watches. He knew why they took so long to gather firewood and why they always did it without complaining. It warmed his heart to see them as they were. It was a beautiful thing to see love. But he also knew if he was not excepted he would have to ask them to put their love for one another aside to make heirs. His smile fell. Who was he? He was the king and he had more than enough authority and respect to force them to do his wishes. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't dare. It hurt too much to be so close yet so far, as he was. To have what you love be forbidden from your touch was agony. Why was he so upset by this? It was girlish and most undwarven for him to be acting as he was.

"You have heirs that can procreate and have heirs. As well as others from the line that can step up. So that is no longer an excuse. No one thinks it improper. We can all see the way you moon over one another. And though I would've agreed with you some weeks ago, the hobbit has more than shown his merit. I would not mind in the slightest watching him stand beside you."

He stared at the older dwarf for a long time. No words could form because everything he had said was true. It contradicted itself in his mind with many, many reasons not to act on the ache in him. But it was true nonetheless. He was king. If they didn't like it they'd have to overthrow him. Yes. That was it. He'd make his intentions known. But when? Balin smirked, leaning back into the sitting position. He had won. Thorin started to stand, courage mustered and heart full. This was the day! He slammed the inventory log in front of him with vigor as his mind flew. How? How could he show his interest without blurting his feelings from the rooftops? Although that would've been ideal, it wasn't rational. The king had to have a sense of propriety around him-...His voice rang through camp, signaling the beginning of breakfast. He felt his pulse pick up in an alarming way that was becoming more and more frequent. Fear be damned! He was the King Under the Mountain for Mahal's sake! He had killed orcs and wargs like they were nothing on numerous occasions. He managed to strike reverence into the hearts of his kin out of intimidation. He was solid. He was the image of strength among their race. And yet, he couldn't speak his feelings to a hobbit who's head fit rather comfortably under his chin and couldn't wield a sword worth a lick. What did it matter that he had a dusting of freckles or he could sing?

Thorin strode over to the fire with purpose. Kíli and Fili seemed to find something he had done immensely funny. A hastily sharpened glare silenced the pair fairly quickly. Bilbo's eyes were far away as he handed a bowl to one of the mischievous brothers. His gaze seemed to drift more frequently lately. And he was gone for the longest time. It worried him sometimes, to see the other so lost. Did he miss his Shire? Dud he wish to be there instead of here with them...with him? He shook his head to clear it, a vain attempt in all truth. His eyes locked with the earthy green ones now back within themselves. It was hard to describe that color, like honey mixed with moss. Everywhere flecked with blue and gold, precious stones of his youth reborn. His heart thrummed even faster if that was possible. This hobbit was all-consuming! Everything about him filled and completed him. What was so special about him? What?

He stayed his thoughts, forcing himself to instead focus on breakfast. Whatever he had made smelled delicious. The oily, delicately burnt scent of slightly overcooked meat mingled most pleasantly with fried eggs and the usual sweaty mess that was early morning dwarf. The chill of his earthen bowl was most welcome on the beautiful late morning. The air was warm. A breeze flitted through the trees and the hobbit's golden curls every once in a while. He felt a smile creep across his lips. It was a perfect day in all respects. The sound of a throat clearing pulled him out of his musings sharply. He was gazing up at him expectantly. Eyes were burning into the back of his head.

"Yes?"

"I asked if you would prefer to have ham or bacon."

"Well it is a day of rest." he chuckled with the others "Why not have both?"

A few minutes passed. He sat. Soon he was deep in conversation with Dwalin, Gloin, and Nori about the contents of the dragon's hoard, between mouthfuls of food of course. He barely even saw when Kíli dragged Bilbo off towards the woods, and thought even less of it. Unbeknownst to him was the nature of this visit from his Uncle's eyes. The young dwarf was restless as ever. He needed answers. And hopefully he would get not only those but cooperation.


End file.
